


Chorus of Angels

by starsinjars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, that au that takes place in a church idk the name of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsinjars/pseuds/starsinjars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean glows to the angels, and Father Michael would like to bask in his warm light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chorus of Angels

Dean did not like going to Church. 

Dean always found Church to be very boring. All they did was sit and stand, sit and stand, sometimes go on their knees and occasionally sing.

But since his Guardian was a devout man, Dean had no choice but to tag along, since he was too young to be home alone. 

Dean never met Amelia and Claire, but apparently they were very lovely and he and Claire were close in age before they died in a tragic car accident. Jimmy said that Dean reminded him of himself, having lost his entire family all at once. He went to Church every morning at eight a.m. to pray for them, so Dean had to wake up extra early to have time for breakfast. When the people stood up, Dean had to stand on the pew but even then he still couldn’t see anything. When they sat down, Dean sat down as well, staring at the patterns the wood seemed to make. When it was time to sing, Dean chose to remain quiet. Dean didn’t like when everyone went up to the altar and ate that white disk, so he stayed in his seat when Jimmy stood to follow the line to the center aisle, kicking his feet that had yet to touch the ground and waiting for Jimmy to come back.

When Jimmy returned to kneel in prayer, Dean did the same, although he didn’t say anything in his mind or heart. It was all just a routine he had to follow, in order to make Jimmy happy. It was the least he could do after everything he had done for him.

When it was finally time to leave, Dean would hop out of the pew and start to drag Jimmy away, wanting to leave through the side entrance, but Jimmy always wanted to go to the main one and shake the priest’s hand. They ended up following the crowd, exiting through the main entrance, and yet still somehow managed to be the last people to leave.

Dean always made sure to hide behind the tails of Jimmy’s trench coat, trying to avoid Father Michael’s stare. Father Michael was scary, too tall and too nosy always nosy always asking Jimmy about him, about his school work, about his social life, about everything Dean did. Jimmy could only reply honestly, for this was Father Michael.

After asking Jimmy all these questions, Father would then kneel to Dean’s eye level, trying to start a conversation with him.

And this time would be no different.

“Hello, Dean,” Michael greeted warmly, making a reach for him.

Dean evaded his touch, squeezing Jimmy’s leg tighter. He hid his face in the large coat, ignoring the man trying to speak to him.

Michael just laughed it off. “As shy as always I see.”

“Dean,” Jimmy scolded. “You’re six years old now. Don’t be so rude. Say hello to Father Michael.”

That was different. Usually Jimmy would pat his head and say, “Yeah, he’s still adapting to the changes.”

But he supposed that after four months they would have assumed he would have adapted by now. Which is ridiculous because they don’t understand, they don’t understand that Dean needed Sam. 

And the fire that took him away didn’t know that either.

Dean shook his head, not wanting to reply. He peeked from the corner of his eye and watched as Michael laughed it off again. “I’m not scary, Dean. I won’t hurt you.” He tried to reach out for him once more. Dean shook his head again and tried to take shelter in Jimmy’s coat, but Jimmy managed to remove him from his leg and then he was face to face with Michael.

Dean stifled a cry, trying to hold himself up as Michael’s gaze pierced through him. He couldn’t help but shiver as those haunting blue eyes roamed over him, blood running cold. There was something about the way Michael looked at him, something that just felt wrong and violating.

“H-hello,” he said timidly.

Michael said nothing, just continued to stare at Dean. “You’re the one, Dean,” Michael whispered breathlessly. “The one that I have been searching for for a long, long time.” Dean looked back to Jimmy, but he seemed to be lost in thought, eyes distant and not in focus.

Dean frowned. “What?”

Michael took hold of Dean’s cheek, and Dean was about to turn to Jimmy before a firm grip left him in place. “The one the angels have been talking about.”

Dean stared at the priest like he was crazy -- and he probably was.

Dean attempted to release himself from Michael’s hold on him, but wasn’t strong enough to prevent Michael from chastly kissing his forehead. Before Dean could think anything of it, Michael turned and cleared his throat.

“Hmm, what? Sorry,” Jimmy apologized, looking at the sky. “I missed that last bit.”

“I was saying that perhaps Dean should be an altar server, when he is old enough,” Michael repeated. He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “But until then perhaps we should have a confession session, to get him familiar with his new church. I will personally handle it.” 

“No!” Dean yelled, shaking the Father’s hand off. He ran back between Jimmy’s legs, hiding from Michael’s piercing gaze. “Jimmy, please, I don’t want to do it,” he pleaded, hoping that his love for him outweighed his love for the church.

“Nonsense, Dean,” Jimmy said. “You can never be too young to get involved in church. You should be thanking Father Michael for making an exception for you.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Michael said, leading a reluctant Dean back into the church. “I can even bring Dean back home afterwards.”

“Jimmy, no, please,” Dean willed for his Guardian to read his mind and just know how terrified he is. Because apparently he didn’t look terrified enough.

Jimmy knelt to Dean’s eye level and placed his hand on his shoulder. He looked him straight in the eye and said, “Dean, let Father Michael help you. You need to move on from the tragedy of losing your family and your fear of fire. You can’t live off of cold sandwiches forever.”

“You won’t even let me try!”

Jimmy smiled. “You’ll be safe with Father Michael. I’ve known him all my life and you can trust him.” 

Dean bit his lip. He looked to Jimmy’s clear blue eyes and blinked innocently at him. “Alright,” he murmured softly, finally, and followed Michael inside of his own free will.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Michael Smith had been devoted to God for as long he could remember. As a boy, he’d looked forward to Sunday services, the quiet church, the peaceful sunday afternoon spent with the Bible open in his lap. He’d always been fascinated with all the stories and parables, wise and poetic as they were. 

It all started with singing.

Michael would hear the singing of a choir in his mind. At first he thought that he had a psalm caught in his head. That the sounds he heard echoing around the empty aisle were just remembered strains of his favorite hymns.

But the singing began to follow him everywhere, to infiltrate his dreams. He couldn’t turn it off, like changing a radio station. He had no control over it. All he could do was listen to the angels sing.   
And he knew they were angels. He knew it, just as he knew intuitively that there was something special about that child-- Dean Winchester.

The child glowed. All children were pure and innocent, but this one had something more than that.

Light. Holy light, shining from within. He was important.

The angels told him he was. The angels spoke to Michael now. When they did not sing, they talked to him, and told him things. As a servant of the Lord, it was important for Michael to listen and obey.

And so when he was asked, he said, “Yes.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean took a seat in the confessional and closed the door behind him. He looked to the side and saw there was an option to slide a screen so he wouldn’t have to see the scary priest. There was a faint click of a locked door in the background as he stood on his tip toes to pull the screen, then jumped onto the cushion seat. He was always a bit short for his age, and the seat was just a tiny bit taller than he could reach.

Michael opened the other door and took a seat. He saw that Dean had the slide between them and chuckled. “Even though I know you’re on the other side, you still don’t want to see me? That hurts, Dean,” he said lightly, amused at the child’s antics.

Dean ignored him. “Forgive me, Father for I have sinned. Um...” He trailed off. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Michael chuckled again. “This is your first time confessing, isn’t it? Just tell me your sins.”

Dean bit his lip. “I don’t know...”

“Remember what Jimmy said? You have to trust me, Dean. I’m going to make it all better. I promise.”

“I...” Dean took a deep breath as he leaned on the divider between them. “I don’t think I should have survived that night. That it was Sammy that should have been saved, not me. If only Dad gave me Sammy before looking for Mom, and hadn’t forced me out of the house...” Dean choked up.

“Oh, Dean.” Michael sighed softly, pitifully, and Dean didn’t know if he liked the way he sounded. “Precious child, beloved child, you have a much greater purpose than your brother would have ever had.”

“No! Everything is pointless without Mommy, Daddy, and Sammy! I can’t live without them! At least Sammy has Mommy and Daddy with him. They left me all alone!” Dean wanted to sob, and couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. It always hurt to think about his family, but especially Sammy his brother, unable to live the life he should have, that he deserves. 

“You’re never alone, Dean,” Michael cooed, sticking a fingernail in one of the holes in the screen. “You have Jimmy, our Almighty Father, the angels that serve Him, and me.” He pulled the screen so that he was face to face with Dean’s. “I will always be here for you, Dean. Always.”

Dean didn’t like the way Michael sounded -- too protective, too possessive, too creepy.

“U-um, that’s okay, Father Michael,” he said shakily, hopping off the cushioned chair. “I-I think I’m done now.” He made a dash to the door, but Michael was faster than him. He ran out the door and into Michael’s arms, trapped in a tight embrace. Dean froze in his tracks.

“Shh, shh,” Michael hushed gently, kissing away the few tears that had fallen down Dean’s cheeks. He pet his soft hair. “It’s okay, my child, I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.”

He picked up a frozen Dean in his arms and carried him to the front of the church, walking down the aisle as if he was holding the precious host in his hand. He knocked everything off of the altar save a glass bottle and placed Dean on it.

“W-what are you doing, Father?” Dean asked faintly, struggling but was weak compared to the adult. 

“Allow me to absolve what little sin you have,” the priest said, placing his lips on top of Dean’s rosy ones. They were as soft and sweet as he always imagined them to be, and it distracted Dean enough to pin his wrists above his head and start undressing him with his free hand. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Michael took it as an invitation to enter his mouth with his tongue, and allowed himself to truly taste him. He tasted sweet, pure, innocent, and just too delicious. As much as he wanted to continue kissing the child, Michael knew they both needed to break for air. Reluctantly, Michael broke it off, and there was a thin string of saliva that connected the two as Michael began to kiss Dean’s neck, sucking and licking his flesh as Dean panted for air. Struggling to breathe, Dean couldn’t stop Michael from taking off his clothes, and whined as Michael pulled down his pants and exposed his crotch to the cold air of the church.

Michael began to suck on Dean’s nipples, massaging his muscles to relax as he carried Dean to the baptismal font. Dean mewled and tried to swat Michael away, but Michael eventually released him before running his tongue along Dean’s tiny chest. “I must wash away my impurities from your body,” Michael explained, gently lowering Dean into the cold water.

“Fa-Father.” Dean shivered in the cold water as Michael started to bathe his naked body. He tried to step out but Michael’s strong hands pushed him back in. 

“We can’t have you leaving without finishing,” Michael said, pouring water above Dean’s head. Dean attempted to splash Michael with the water, but Michael paid no attention to it or seemed to care. He began to pray as he took hold of Dean’s hair and dunked his face into the water.

“Gloria patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto.” 

Dean began to scream, bubbles surfacing. Michael lifted him up to take in some air before dunking him face down again.

“Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper,“

Dean this time had the smarts to hold his breath, but he didn’t stop flailing his arms.

“et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.”

Michael finally lifted Dean up, the child gasping for air and trying his best to release Michael’s hold on him. “Fa-Father, ple-please,” Dean begged, unable to take it anymore. 

Michael just cradled him in his arms, whispering unintelligible nothings into his ear in Latin.

Dean renewed his efforts to struggle. “Let me go let me go!” he screamed, shivering from his wet skin. “Ji-Jimmy, anyone! Please!”

Michael hushed him, sticking his wet fingers in his mouth. Dean bit down hard, but Michael ignored the pain. Deep down, Michael knew that Dean wouldn’t harm him to protect himself -- it wasn’t in his nature. Now for someone else, that’s a different story entirely. “Silence, my child. I shall protect you.” He removed his robe and began to wipe Dean, drying his skin and hair. His touch was gentle, soft and delicate, as if he was afraid that the shaking Dean would shatter in his arms. After he deemed Dean dry enough, he used the robe to tie his wrists to the altar. He held Dean’s legs down as he improvised and grabbed a cloth from the floor, using it to tie Dean’s legs to the altar as well.

Dean was still screaming throughout this whole ordeal. In order to calm Dean down Michael began to hum, the Hymn of Saint Michael. It was a song that Dean’s mother used to sing to him to fall asleep, so Dean found himself relaxing much to his disbelief with tears streaming down his cheeks. While he was humming, Michael grabbed the bottle of holy oil and poured it down Dean’s chest, using his hands to spread and rub it. 

Dean trembled, not liking the way Michael was touching him, massaging him. Michael's hands were all over his body, touching his neck, arms, chest, before trailing down to his legs. 

"Precious Dean, let me be the one that you make whole," Michael said. Before Dean could say anything, voice his confusion, Michael jumped onto the altar and straddled his legs around Dean's hips. Then he gently took hold of Dean's soft cock, using his free hand to cup the child's face. Dean strained to avoid Michael's touch as he slowly ran his fingers along the shaft, using his thumb to tease the head.

Dean squeaked, confused at the feeling. He cried out, and struggled against his bindings. Michael rested his head on Dean's oily chest as his hands trailed down his legs. 

"You're so warm, Dean. After so long, I have finally found you. You feel so right, so at home with me. Your soul is harmonious with my Grace. You were the chosen one, my true vessel. Destiny has been changed and we must restart the cycle, but I wanted a taste before everything needs to start over."

Before Dean could say anything, Michael pulled him in for another kiss, sucking in all the air from his little lungs. He licked Dean’s lips for entrance, and began to rub Dean in the earnest until Dean opened his mouth to let out a moan. Michael was able to taste the sweetness once more as he played with Dean’s small cock, grinning when Dean cried out in pleasure.

He let Dean go so that they could both breathe, and began to trail his fingers lower to his entrance. He began to kiss Dean’s neck, lowering himself lower and lower to his now hard cock. Without hesitation he took Dean in his mouth while he thrust in an oiled finger, covering Dean’s mouth when he howled in pain and pleasure.

Dean was making little noises as Michael sucked, sucking as hard as he could while he placed more fingers inside the boy. It wasn’t before long Dean struggled even more so, and Michael looked up to see Dean with tears streaming down his face. His body was starting to sweat, which didn’t mix well with the oil, but Michael knew that Dean had to be close, that it wouldn’t take too long to tilt him over the edge.

“I...I can’t...” Dean whimpered, crossing his legs as much as he could. “Father, I need to go to the bathroom,” he begged, trying to kick himself free from Michael’s bindings.

Michael placed his third finger, then removed his mouth from Dean’s cock with a pop. He scissored his fingers inside Dean, searching for his prostate. “Shh,” Michael hushed, trying to comfort the boy. “Just let go, Dean, it’s okay.”

Michael’s fingers brushed against something, and Dean let out a shrill scream as he came. He collapsed down on the altar, panting heavily as Michael grinned and licked away the clear liquid that rested on his stomach.

“So sweet, Dean. You’re so sweet,” Michael praised as Dean took in every breath he could. “So naive, so innocent, so pure. Let me partake in that purity of yours.”

“W-wha?” Dean breathed, and watched as Michael took out his fingers and began to remove his pants. Not liking where this was going, Dean tried his hardest to kick himself free but was pointless with Michael’s weight on top of him. 

He picked up the almost empty bottle and poured the oil over his hard dick. "It's okay," Michael hushed, caressing Dean's face and wiping away his tears. "Soon we may become whole." 

Dean screamed as Michael plunged into him, howling in pain while Michael waited for him to calm down. Trembling, Dean flinched when Michael caressed his face to wipe away the tears. Michael waited calmly, shushing him and trying his best to comfort him. He pet his hair, kissed his face, and worshipped the young child’s body while Dean adjusted. It took a while, but eventually Dean calmed somewhat, still shaking but no longer sobbing. 

“You alright, Dean?” Michael whispered.

Dean sniffled but nodded.

Michael kissed his forehead. “Great. You’re doing great. Now take deep breaths and relax.” 

Then Michael began to move.

Dean screamed himself hoarse while Michael thrust into him, speaking in Latin. He cried in pain, straining to free himself from the bindings harder than before. Michael held him down by the wrists, thrusting earnestly while grunting in pleasure.

“You feel so good, Dean. Don’t you feel complete?”

Dean just continued to scream as his answer, trying his best to move away. It, however, was futile, since he was still bound to the table. Michael ignored his cries, taking them in as cries of pleasure rather than cries of pain and agony. Eventually he managed to find Dean’s prostate, if that gasp meant anything. He aimed towards it and soon Dean was screaming again but in pleasure and pain rather than just in agony. 

“Father-Father, please,” Dean wheezed, stabbing his fingernails into his palm. “I… I...”

“Just let it go, Dean,” Michael said as Dean came for a second time, and without hesitation he licked off his come off of his chest. Dean just lay there, exhausted with all the events and the trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

As Michael could feel himself about to release, he knelt down to Dean and silenced him with a kiss. He let himself come inside of Dean, riding out his orgasm. 

“My precious vessel,” Michael said breathlessly, as he removed a dagger from thin air. “In order to fix the cycle you must be sacrificed. But let it be known that it shall not be in vain.”

As Michael raised the dagger over the still Dean, Jimmy burst into the church. He quickly waved his hand to undo the bindings and pulled Dean away from the crazed man and towards him, rushing to his charge and cradling him close when he could. He then gestured his hand and a knife soon stabbed Michael in the chest, pinning him to the wall by the cross.

Dean opened his eyes and looked onto Jimmy. ”J-Jimmy?”

Jimmy shook his head. “I am Castiel, Dean. I took control over my vessel for he was doing a poor job in protecting you. I was trying to warn him about this man earlier, he had been able to hear the angels speak and thought he was Michael.” He looked over Dean’s naked and damaged body, frowning sadly. “I am sorry I did not come in time.” He then placed his hand on Dean’s forehead, causing for the child to pass out and heal his injuries. 

He quickly dressed Dean and carried him out of the church, holding him close to his arms as he kissed him on the forehead. “I will make sure you will not remember this, Dean, having finally been able to give you a life of happiness and peace. I would be damned if I let this crazed man ruin what I have worked so hard to achieve for you.”

They made their way back home, and Castiel allowed himself to chastely kiss Dean on the lips. 

“It was hard enough changing Destiny and allowing for your family to perish in that fire. I’m not going to let this ruin the happiness you deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this makes sense.   
> Latin is Glory Be.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
